Tag Archives: Siblings

February Repeats

13 Feb

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I’ve been wanting to tell you about my kitchen cupboards since before Christmas (yes, my life really is that dull) but I haven’t had time to write the post (dull but busy), so here’s a random selection of bits of old posts from February 2010.

Enjoy!

***

I always bin chain letters but this one really scared me; I don’t know where it came from:

This letter was started by a woman like yourself in the hope of bringing relief to tired and discontented women.  Just send a copy of this letter to five of your friends who are equally tired and discontented.  Then bundle up your husband or boyfriend and send him to the woman whose name appears at the top of the list.  When your name comes to the top of the list you will receive 16,337 men and one of them is bound to be better than the one you already have.

DO NOT BREAK THE CHAIN.  ONE WOMAN WHO DID THAT GOT HER OWN MAN BACK.

***

H.L. Mencken:

Journalism is to politician as dog is to lamp-post.

***

The Hub:

The bloke in the car behind me had his finger so far up his nose he scraped the dandruff off his scalp.

***

Jason Manford in The Sun:

Dear Cat,

If your idea of a gift is a dead mouse at the foot of my stairs then please leave me off your gift list or get me some HMV vouchers.

Your Human

Dear Human,

It’s not a gift, it’s a warning.

Regards,

Your cat

***

On Siblings

Tilly Bud: I asked you to buy the toilet rolls; now please let me pay for them.

Little Brother: Get lost, knobhead.

TB: Oh, come on; please.

LB: Just think of me every time you wipe your bum.

TB: I already do.

TB&LB: Raucous laughter

 

Hooray For Reblogs And Brothers

21 Feb

I have nothing to write about today, so I trawled my archives again.  I don’t feel it’s cheating because nobody was reading me back when I first started blogging.

I have two brothers; at some point in their lives they have both looked like Freddie Mercury channelling The Village People.

Little Brother: He’s going to kill me for showing this picture. 

Big and Little Brother: Pool balls-in-waiting.

I’m going to talk about Little Brother today.  He is two years younger than me but has no respect for me at all.  A typical conversation:

 

Tilly Bud: I asked you to buy the toilet rolls; now please let me pay for them.

Little Brother: Get lost, knobhead.

TB: Oh, come on; please.

LB: Just think of me every time you wipe your bum.

TB: I already do.

TB&LB: Raucous laughter.

*

He’s not bad, actually.  The boys and I stayed with him a few years ago and wrecked his house, and he was nice about it.  Not wrecked, exactly; more like semi-demolished.  We were there three weeks and broke his spare toilet, one window, a couple of glasses, a packet of sausages, an old book, some magazines, the garage door and a lounge wall (which was really just slightly damaged due to a dirty great hand print and footprint, causing it to need re-painting).  I may also have cost him some customers because I didn’t know how to work his phone and accidentally blocked all callers for a day and a half.  Finally, there was the large orange juice stain on the carpet that he knows nothing about: I was able to clean most of it up and move a sideboard to hide the rest before he came home.

He thinks I’m not too bad, either; if a little nuts.  The best thing about him is that he is the father of my Niece and Nephew.  They are adorable – and that’s not auntie’s bias, because I am always prepared to dislike children at the first opportunity.  Particularly my own…when they put dirty great hand and footprints on walls in homes in which we are guests, break toilets and windows, and leave orange juice stains lying around.

I am actually rather proud of him.  He is a retired South African Doubles Snooker Champion (the freak’s outfit in the first photo refers); and his children love me.  He must have done something right.

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